


If Only We Had An Alternate Universe (Oh, But Then We Wouldn't Be Who We Are)

by AnotherGallavichLove



Series: Prompts [92]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Contemplating Alternate Universes, Dreams, Getting Back Together, M/M, post 5x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: Months after 5x12, Ian has a dream (inspired by these pictures ( anothergallavichlove. tumblr. com/post/135440850335/bvdsh-im-not-okay) , he wakes up realizing the huge mistake he has done. He goes to Mickey for trying to make peace with him, but Mickey isn't willing to forgive him so he has to earn his forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only We Had An Alternate Universe (Oh, But Then We Wouldn't Be Who We Are)

_It’s white. Everything is completely and utterly white. But not in a bad way; as a matter of fact, it kind of beautiful. It’s the Milkovich house, that much is clear. But it’s not messy, and it’s not littered with weapons or drugs or empty jack bottles. It’s… like an alternate universe or something. A perfect universe._

 

_Ian’s body felt completely frozen in place where he stood in the middle of that livingroom, seemingly completely unable to move. It wasn’t scary, though; it was as if he was watching some kind of a movie. There he was - Ian. Only Ian wasn’t inside of his body, it was exactly as if he was watching a movie. Some kind of outer body experience. Ian - the body - walked past Ian and further into the livingroom. Towards Mickey._

 

_Ian could feel his throat close up with how beautiful he looked. Dressed in beige clothes, the kind that he would never wear on an everyday basis - in fact, it wasn’t all that different from how Ian - the body - was dressed, he realized. The dream version of Ian continued walking closer; Mickey was holding a baby. He was holding Yevgeny, smiling down at him for a moment before he looked up at Ian - the body, that was. Ian didn’t feel as if it was really him. And he didn’t feel as if it was Mickey either._

 

_No, these people looked like the two of them, but they weren’t. At least not the versions of them that Ian was used to. They were too happy, too at peace. To skilled at having love without blood. Seemingly so, at least. Ian - the body - looked back down at Mickey, placing a hand by Yevgeny as he dipped his head, pressing a sweet kiss to the older man’s lips._

 

_That was it; Ian couldn’t take it anymore._

 

  
***

 

  
Ian sat up in his bed with a heavy sigh, feeling his entire body and sheets soaked with sweat. Well - he thought it was sweat, but within the next couple of seconds, he realized that it was too cold to be sweat. His cheeks were soaked with it as well, his eyes stinging with the salty water that didn’t seem to be able to stop pouring out of them. His chest was heaving up and down as he stayed as silent as he could, doing his best to catch his breath all the while making sure not to wake his brothers.

 

It wasn’t as if Ian hadn’t been aware of the fact that it had all been a dream - he had been. Incredibly aware. But that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to open his eyes and find the cold, harsh reality. A reality that hurt so much worse than any knife, gun or punch ever could. A reality that Ian had created for himself. He had nobody else to blame; nobody at all.

 

Ian did his best to calm down, but with every single second that ticked by, he felt himself grow even more upset, his tears starting to fall down his cheeks at an even steadier pace. His hands were planted flatly on the mattress next to himself, holding his body up into a sitting position. His fingers dug far into the soft covers, hie eyes clenching closed his pain; that puma on the inside of his body starting to become even more and more aggressive, his breathing becoming heavier with every tick of the clock.

 

“Fuck” The word was just barely a tired breath, and before Ian was really completely aware of what he was doing he had gotten up from the bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants along with the combat boots by his bed; then he was running. Ian was running down the stairs and out of the house.

 

The rain was pounding down onto the pavement along with his shoulders; he couldn’t really see anything in the darkness of the night, save for the small parts of the streets that were lit by the flickering streetlights. Ian wasn’t thinking; he couldn’t. If he thought, then his brain would end up registering the guilt he felt, and then he would just end up turning back around and crying himself to sleep. In the past two months, he had been halfway to Mickey’s house more than once, but he had never made it. It was too difficult. Facing everything, or maybe he was just terrified of seeing something in Mickey’s eyes. Something he didn’t want to see. The proof that he didn’t love him anymore.

 

Only a few houses away from the Gallagher one, Ian was already completely soaked from head to toe, the sound of the thunder overpowering his senses. He didn’t stop, though. He couldn’t stop. He had to see Mickey, and right now he didn’t give a fuck that it was three am in the pouring storm. The puma was clawing and biting on his heart, but it was no longer in guilt or in shame; the animal was clawing, begging for Mickey. Ian needed Mickey now.

 

Ian ran faster than he ever had before, no sounds around him except for the rain, thunder and the heavy ‘thud thud thud’ of his boots hitting the soaked road over and over again. By now he couldn’t tell what was tears and what was rain, it all blended together. When he made it to the Milkovich house, he didn’t bother to figure out who might or might not be home, he didn’t have the time. Instead he reached his hand up to the door, banging on it heavily three times before taking a few steps back and waiting.

 

Ian’s heart was still throwing itself against his ribcage, and honestly he wasn’t all too sure what he was doing here, or what he was going to say when somebody opened that door. He took a deep breath, and then one more, doing his best to slow his heart rate, knowing that nothing good would come out of this if he didn’t calm down. The rain continued pouring, and Ian was suddenly aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a jacket. His thin, soaked black v neck didn’t cover all that much, and his teeth were on the verge of chattering.

 

Before he could suffer more, those thoughts were completely thrown out the window, because there he was. Mickey fucking Milkovich. In his boxers and his metallica t shirt, he was so much more beautiful than he had been in Ian’s ‘perfect’ dream. That universe hadn’t been theirs. That universe had belonged to another Ian and Mickey, some place else.

 

Mickey’s perfectly shaped eyebrows were knitted together, his thick and chapped lips slightly parted in surprise and exhaustion as he looked at his exboyfriend. He was probably getting ready to say something along the lines of ‘What the fuck, Gallagher?’ but before he could, Ian’s hands were placed on either side of his neck, and his dry lips were pressed to Ian’s wet ones; a kiss of desperation, need. A kiss of apology.

 

For a second, their lips were perfectly slipped in between each other’s, but the next, Mickey’s hands were placed flatly onto Ian’s chest, pushing him away.

 

“What the fuck, Gallagher?” There it was. Ian sighed heavily, bringing his hand up to his mouth and wiping it before running a flat palm over his face, wiping the tears and the rain, hoping to wipe some of the idiocy with it.

 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Mickey. I’m so sorry” Ian looked back up at his exboyfriend; Mickey standing in the doorway, looking just as beautiful as he had a moment ago, although now he looked a lot more surprised and a lot more angry; his bottom lip glistened a little bit with a few drops of water that had been transferred from Ian’s lips. “Mick - I didn’t, I’m just… I had a fucking dream, alright? It was some kind of alternate universe or some shit, it doesn’t matter. The point is - is that I miss you so fucking much, okay? And breaking up with you was… fuck… I don’t even know what to compare it to, it was the biggest mistake of my life. I love you, and I want you so fucking much. Now and forever, and I’m…” Ian trailed off, taking a deep breath to make up for all of the ones he had missed during his desperate rant.

 

Even more tears started trailing down his cheeks, and Mickey tilted his head slightly to the side, most likely trying to figure out whether Ian meant what he was saying, or if it was just a lonely night and he wanted a warm body to hold onto. Ultimately, though - Ian wasn’t that good of an actor, he never had been. He would never be able to fake such desperation, such need. Such sadness in his eyes.

 

Mickey took a deep and heavy breath. Ian’s hands were placed back onto his neck, but he shrugged them off.

 

“Look, Ian… I can’t do this, alright? I can’t just fucking take you back right now. You um… You have some shit to make up for, we can’t just fuck and be how we were” Mickey blurted out how he felt, praying to whatever or whoever might be listening that he for once was able to express how he felt so that Ian understood it. He had never been very good at all of that.

 

Ian swallowed, though, nodding.

 

“Of course, Mick. Baby, whatever it takes”

 

  
***

 

  
A little over six months later, Ian and Mickey were back together and stronger than ever before. Once in a while, the dream popped into Ian’s mind. The one that had made him go get Mickey back that one stormy night. And he had to wonder if those versions of them were quite as happy as they were here. He wondered if they had ever felt the kind of heartbreak that they had, or if they could ever really appreciate each other in the same way.

 

They probably did, somehow. But either way, Ian would never want them to have another life - even if it was technically a ‘better one’. Because they wouldn’t be who they were - and who they were were pretty fucking great.


End file.
